


Dust to Dust

by Zai42



Series: Promptober 2019 [2]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: F/M, Monsters, Necromancy, Other, Worms of Questionable Canon Compliance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-15 02:37:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20858843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zai42/pseuds/Zai42
Summary: Witches have a habit of returning from even the deepest of graves.Prompt: Witches





	Dust to Dust

It wasn't quite that she _knew_ she was alive - it wasn't even quite that she was alive, really. She was ash, dust, like the old saying went, but her bones were rich fertilizer and something squirmed in her still. Sometimes the Archivist would sift his fingertips through her and she thought she tasted guilt on his skin. Guilt and remorse and heartache, and some of it was even for Jane. Just a twinge of it. Just the barest morsel. But she had clung to less.

  
Perhaps the old Jane would have wanted there to be a ritual to it. Yes - she would have wanted some sacrament, crystals and candles laid out in perfect geometry. But there was so little of that dark-haired witch woman left, now, and the writhing dust did not care for ceremony. When the Archivist tipped her into the damp soil, he thought it his own idea, and Jane let him.

  
He had screamed, before - yelled for his little assistant to run, escape - now he only watched, eyes flat and bright and _hungry._ Watched the shimmering, unstable mass before him shape itself into something that resembled its former host. "Jane Prentiss," he said, almost a question, as if he were restraining himself.

  
"We...were," she rasped. Then, "Yes." She held out what might have been a hand, and the Archivist hesitated only a moment before taking it in his own. He watched her envelop him to the wrist, didn't so much as flinch away from the damp silver streaks she left dripping on his skin. He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. _Welcome back,_ the kiss said. _I understand now,_ it said.

  
"I think," Jane said, stroking tenderly over the vulnerable fullness of his lower lip, "that I would like to...make a statement."

**Author's Note:**

> Jon sure has some tension with that jar of a dead worm woman's ashes, huh


End file.
